


Each Breath Is A Blessing

by CommanderRoastedWolf



Series: Birds of a Feather [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Pharmercy, rocket angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderRoastedWolf/pseuds/CommanderRoastedWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela accepts the kiss with a sigh, and mumbles a thanks, brushing her fingers over her new bandage. Fareeha backs off, giving her space as she potters around the room, putting bandages away and throwing used wipes in the bin. Somewhere a radio is playing a jaunty tune - a mismatch to the gloomy atmosphere of the medbay - and elsewhere Fareeha can hear the others celebrating their victory. A narrow victory, but one nonetheless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Each Breath Is A Blessing

**Author's Note:**

> Rocket Angel role reversal prompt: Pharah patches up and takes care of Mercy after a pretty brutal fight where the enemy was particularly focused on keeping the healer out of the battle.

“Just… just stay still.”

Angela’s bloody lip pulls in between her teeth as Fareeha carefully starts to clean the bullet scrape on her arm. Her mechanical fingers move with practised care, tenderly wiping away blood and dirt before she grasps a bandage from the nearby table and pulls it out of its package.

“Fareeha, I can do this myself.” Angela murmurs. Fareeha hushes her, wrapping the clean white cloth around her arm and securing it with a strip of surgical tape. Then she gets to work on cleaning the blood from Angela’s face. The small cut above her perfectly shaped eyebrow bleeds, trailing a brilliant red river down her cheek, dripping slowly onto the towel rested over her lap. Grasping a fresh anti-bacterial wipe, Fareeha cleans this cut as well, placing a bandaid decorated with smiling suns and moons over it.

“There.” Fareeha brushes the lightest of kisses over the bandaid, and sets about wiping the grime and dried blood off Angela’s face. A pair of wounded blue eyes watch her, the light lines around them tightening in pain as she brushes over another scrape. Murmuring soothingly in Arabic, Fareeha fetches another wipe and continues cleaning until Angela’s face is completely clear of dust and blood and mud.

“Are you done, doctor?” Angela says with a hint of sarcasm.

“No.” Fareeha leans in and drops a kiss on Angela’s nose. “Now I’m done.”

Angela accepts the kiss with a sigh, and mumbles a thanks, brushing her fingers over her new bandage. Fareeha backs off, giving her space as she potters around the room, putting bandages away and throwing used wipes in the bin. Somewhere a radio is playing a jaunty tune - a mismatch to the gloomy atmosphere of the medbay - and elsewhere Fareeha can hear the others celebrating their victory. A narrow victory, but one nonetheless.

She closes the door against the noise, sealing herself and Angela in silence, and rests her head against the cool glass, closing her eyes. In the seconds of quiet she affords herself, she allows the fear to rise strong in her, privately thanking Allah that He had spared Angela’s life. If she had been slower, if she hadn’t gotten there in time, if Reinhardt hadn’t charged across the battlefield to Angela’s side, if she’d allowed Angela to die, alone and afraid in some dark corner of that temple…

“You’re thinking too much.” Fareeha turns around, her prosthetic arms and legs ticking softly as she leans against the door to stare at Angela. Her tattoo feels hot as her eyes burn. She’d failed. Failed to protect the one thing in the world she cares about. She feels the guilt, the burden, like a swelling wave over her shoulders, squeezing the breath out of her until she has to inhale sharply.

Angela is on her feet and striding towards her before she can say anything, thumbs catching the first tears that spill over. “Nein, mein Liebling. No crying.”

She sucks in another breath, willing the tears away as Angela wraps her arms around her neck and pulls her into an embrace. She buries her face into the crook of a warm neck, breathing shakily as she wrestles her emotions back under control.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Angela whispers back tenderly, raking a hand through Fareeha’s hair.

“For not protecting you.”

Angela seals their lips together with a kiss that seeks to absolve her of all her sins. She kisses back desperately, half crying as she wraps her arms around Angela’s waist and lifts her bodily off the ground. Angela lets out a tiny gasp against her mouth, but secures herself with two strong legs, embracing Fareeha tightly as she twists around and presses the medic against the door.

They pull apart briefly. Fareeha rests her forehead gently against Angela’s, asking a silent question, wanting always to know that her touch is welcome. Angela nods, murmurs a please, and kisses her again, understanding at once. Reassured, Fareeha carries Angela to the nearest bed, setting her gently on its soft surface, heart jack hammering against her ribs. The flash of a memory draws a hard gasp out of her; the image of Angela’s broken body tossed carelessly beside a wall rises to the forefront of her brain. Angela hushes her, taking her hands and pressing tiny kisses to the graceful metal which forms her fingers.

“I’m alive. And I’m right here with you.”


End file.
